Dreaming
by AznFlyingKitty
Summary: Alright, so Harry's professor was a little more than hot. That didn't give him the right to invade his dreams like that. ...Right?


**A/N:** Okay, so I guess I just can't help keeping that special little bond between Harry and Voldemort (if you don't get what I'm saying, you'll see... eventually). I suppose this is more of a prologue than anything else, though. Harry's dream is sort of cut off from the rest of the story, as I was too lazy to put it all in italics. (I'm a fail, I know...)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it. /cry

**Warnings:** For this chapter? Um... anal, AU-ish, masturbation, slight masochistic tendencies, yaoi/slash/LVHP

* * *

Harry awoke with a jolt. He was panting and sweating, and his bedsheets clung stickily to him.

He vaguely recalled his back being pressed against a hard and firm chest in his dream, hearing delectable words whispered sinfully to him. He could almost feel those soft, pale hands roughly caressing him again, running against his body and inflicting such pleasure onto him. Harry shivered in arousal; he was already hardening.

"Not again," he groaned. It was another one of those nights_—_the nights in which he was constantly plagued by dreams that called for many, many clean bedsheets. He glared at his stiffening groin and dirtied sheets.

Well, if they already needed to be washed...

Harry slowly slid a hand down his body, harshly tweaking his nipple like the person had in his dream. He shut his eyes and flopped back onto the bed, black hair splaying out onto the pillow. He was gently fondling himself at first, but then he took his dick in a fierce grip and squeezed until the point of pain.

He gasped. Why on earth did that feel so ridiculously good? Harry had never pegged himself as someone who got off on pain before. Before his dreams, at least. But now, it didn't seem like he could ever reach his peak without the jolts of pain rocketing through his body. He shook his head, clearing his mind of thoughts and simply focusing on the sensations.

His left hand was clenched at his side while his right hand pumped himself with tortuous slowness. He bucked up into his tight fist, moaning softly. His most recent dream slammed itself into the forefront of his mind, and he shivered at the burning arousal that it brought with it.

* * *

"Did you miss me, Harry?" the husky, masculine voice purred. "We haven't seen each for a few days; I know I've missed you." Cool hands forcibly parted his legs, and a thick, hard cock rubbed against the cleft of Harry's ass.

The teen groaned and ground himself down onto that hot appendage. He wanted to get fucked hard tonight. He wanted to cum with his ass fully stretched, and he wanted to feel warm cum dribbling out of his leaking hole. "Fuck me. Please," he begged softly, throwing his head back to lean on a firm shoulder.

An arm wrapped possessively around Harry's waist, pulling him backwards toward a well-muscled chest. "No, pet," the man murmured softly. "Not yet. I wish to play with you a little first." Fingers danced across Harry's cock, and he squirmed, panting. Fine, the teen thought sulkily. If he's not going to fuck me, then I'll just see if I can finally get a couple of answers from him.

"Who are you?"

There. He had at last asked the question that had been bugging him for the past few years. Though Harry had never actually seen the face of his molester, he knew the answer to his question. He just needed some sort of confirmation.

There was a low chuckle next to his ear, and then the man whispered, "I think you know very well who I am, Harry." His nipple was pulled on harshly as two fingers entered his ass, completely dry.

"Ah!" Harry shuddered as pain and pleasure ran through his body. "N-No, I don't quite think I know who you are." The man had wasted no time in stretching him.

"Then who do you want me to be?"

Harry didn't answer. He shut his eyes instead, imagining wavy, dark brown hair and intense crimson-colored eyes. He knew exactly who he wanted to be fucking him. Before he could get any further in his daydreaming_—_or would it be dreamdreaming?_—_, that hard cock slammed into him, and he cried out.

"God, Harry, you're so tight." The words were hissed against his ear, and the teen trembled from being filled so quickly. "Mm, tell me, love," the man said, hands splayed out along Harry's hips. "Do you want me to move? To start fucking you hard and deep? To cum inside your tight little ass?"

Harry squirmed on top of the man's lap. "Yes," he hissed, pure lust flaring through his veins. "Yes, I want it. I want it _now_." He clutched firm thighs underneath him to try to move just a little, but his hips were held down.

"I know you want it, Harry. I want it too. But first I need to hear you call out my name." Fingers slid teasingly over Harry's thighs as the man continued enticingly, "I'll only need to hear it once."

Harry panted heavily. "I-I don't..."

"Yes, Harry, you do." Warm lips surrounded his earlobe, tugging on it gently. "You know my name." Teeth then fiercely pulled the appendage down, causing Harry to writhe on top of the man's lap.

Harry's eyes were clenched shut. "T-Tom," he whispered. He moaned as his hips were slowly lifted away from that precious cock and held still.

"Louder." The voice was hot against his ear, rough and husky and practically dripping with lust.

"Tom!" he cried out, nearly sobbing in relief as the man's dick slammed into him. His head lolled backwards onto a strong shoulder, exposing his neck for the other to feast on. The man took the offer, biting and licking and sucking like a thirsty vampire.

"I adore having you in my arms," he whispered against the teen's neck. "So hot and willing. Begging to be fucked. Mm, you don't know what you do to me, love." Harry was being repeatedly lifted and dropped onto that hard cock, squirming on top of the man's lap every time his prostate was hit. His feet were planted firmly on the mattress on either side of long legs, giving him leverage to better move up and down the man's cock.

"Tom," he gasped. "Faster, please. I need..."

"Hush, Harry." The words were so soft and kind, but they set his nerves aflame with lust. "There's no need to rush. After all, it's been a while since our last meeting, and I wouldn't want to leave so soon after our reunion." Having said these words, he held Harry still, fiercely grinding up into the teen's entrance but doing nothing more.

Harry let out a sharp, keening cry, thrashing his head from side to side in a rather futile attempt for harder, faster, _anything _other than this slow torture. He pushed with his feet but was held immobile, eliciting a whimper from his throat as he was unable to stop himself from grinding back down onto the man. "Tom..."

It felt like hours had passed before Harry was being raised again, and he shuddered at the feel of smooth muscle gliding along his insides. "Touch yourself," came the heated command from behind him, and Harry hurried to do so. Pleasure gripped him, choking him until he could barely breathe.

"T-Tom... So close..."

"I'll be speaking with you soon, Harry, but for now... Cum." With that, Harry released into his hands jerkily, groaning at the feel of hot semen pouring into him. He panted for a moment, relishing the feeling of utter euphoria before his dream-world faded from him.

* * *

Harry ground his teeth as he came again, willing himself to be quiet. He may not have known exactly what he had done out loud while he was dreaming, but he definitely didn't want any of his roommates to ask him who the "lucky girl" was tomorrow morning.

He knew very well who he was dreaming of.

Professor Riddle began teaching at Hogwarts two years ago, in Harry's fifth year. He taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Harry had been crushing on him since day one. Riddle's looks had earned him a fan club two days into his first year in teaching, and even the way the man simply carried himself sent shivers of arousal down Harry's spine.

The girls_—_as well of some of the more outspoken gay boys at Hogwarts_—_practically swooned every time Riddle so much as looked at one of them. Many of the other boys would've hated the outrageously popular professor if it weren't for the fact that he taught so well. According to the rumors circulating the school, every single person passed their DADA O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s since Riddle began teaching.

One thing that kept admirers away, though, was the professor's often extremely sadistic personality. Some even said he was worse than Snape (but Harry secretly doubted anyone could possibly be worse than Snape). Riddle, however, didn't just reject someone_—_no, he rejected and then mocked and humiliated anyone who dared to even flirt with him. It was because of this that many contented themselves to watch him afar, thinking that if they couldn't have him, then no one else could either.

Harry wanted him though. He wanted him badly enough to start dreaming about Riddle... Dreaming about Riddle roughly fucking him into the long hours of the night, whispering naughty words into his ear, and teasing him until Harry absolutely could not contain it any more.

Tomorrow would be the start of Harry's very last week at Hogwarts, and he would be damned if he didn't try to do something to get into Tom Riddle's pants.

* * *

**A/N: **And now I'm off to write the second chapter! Send me a review while I'm gone? :)


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